Hunters:Through Children's Eyes
by BlazeorFade
Summary: Seventh in the Hunters series. Something goes wrong on a job and Johnis left to care for our hero's in an.....odd situation. R&R please.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Hunters: Through Children's Eyes**

**Author: BlazeorFade**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: On a job, something goes wrong and John is left to take care of our heroes in an…..odd condition.**

**Disclaimer: No, Jack is mine, OC's are mine, everything familiar belongs to someone else.**

**AN: Set a couple months after the Dream.**

* * *

**Prologue**

Sam shoved his things into the backseat, all but embedding the bags in the leather seats with the force he used, slamming the door hard after.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Dean shoved his brother. "You're gonna to scratch my car, bitch."

"Get outta my face Dean." Sam said pushing past his brother to walk around to the other side and climb into the front seat. He scowled out at nothing, refused to acknowledge his brother climbing into the driver's seat.

"Dude, what hell is your problem?" Dean demanded.

Jack came out of their motel, closing the door behind her and ambled along to slide into the backseat, shoving her pack on top of the pile.

"Sam?" Dean said sharply. Sam jerked his head around to glare at his brother.

"Leave me the hell alone, Dean. You too." Sam tacked on sliding his eyes to Jack before returning to glaring out the window.

"What the hell bit your ass?" Jack demanded, rolling her eyes at Sam.

"Leave him alone remember." Dean said mockingly. He started the car, warming up the engine till John came out of his room and was ready to go.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked turning to address Dean again. "Its been two months, there are no leads on Carl Rhodes. Dad mentions some Hunter's hangout once and then buries it. We're up and around again. I don't know about you but I wanna find that evil son of a bitch yesterday."

"I do too." Dean agreed, "But we have no leads, he hasn't popped up on the grip, Sam."

"You know better than anyone that when someone doesn't want to be found they won't be." Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. John came out of his room, loaded down with his own bags. Dean watched him carefully, wondering the same things as his brother.

"Has he even tried his contacts Dean?" Jack asked from the backseat.

"Listen up," Dean twisted in his seat to address them both. "Dad wants to find Rhodes, I know he does, maybe not as bad as we do but he does. Or did you forget that we were the ones who wouldn't go after him when the trail was still warm?" Jack cleared her throat and Sam looked away briefly.

"I'll talk to him next place we stop." Dean promised.

"Good, cause I want this guy Dean." Jack said leaning forward. "I'm getting a little tired of people fucking around in my head and I'm lookin to make an example out of this demonic sonuvabitch."

Dean nodded feeling the familiar anger rising. He wanted him too. He'd been having the dreams, he suspected Sam and Jack had too, flashbacks of what could have been, all of it tearing to pieces, bleeding into the reality of it all. He never regret his life, he still didn't, but Dean didn't like having his memories reworked, to have his mother's memory disturbed. He hated it.

The past couple of months had been them trying to heal from the shit storm that the end of the previous year had been. Two near fatal hunts, sabotage, the Dream, not to mention the fact that, although Sam tried to get his partners to deal, they hadn't really addressed the aftermath of Tucson and Vinita, just avoided it like the plague and hoped to hell it would stay buried next time.

Dean was also well aware that out of three of them he was more than likely the one suffering the least. Another stab in the gut.

Things were not coming together well. He remembered Missouri's warning at Thanksgiving; that the next few months were going to be bad, very, very bad. Were they through the worst of it? Dad hadn't taken off again, Jack was having fewer night terrors, or at least getting better at hiding them, Sam wasn't having visions and for better or worse they were in more than good enough shape to start taking jobs again.

They were following behind John now, classic rock playing softly in the background. Dean on autopilot, caught in his thoughts, but still vigilantly aware of everything going on around him; The sedan three cars up that was trying to turn into their lane in front of his dad, the tape skipping just a little cause it had been played on two many times(he made a mental note to find a new copy somewhere), Jack looking out the window blankly, Sam staring straight ahead, his fingers unconsciously tapping out the beat to the song playing, complete with skips, the observant bastard. His lips twitched into an almost smile at that.

Dean's phone rang and he listened for a second to his ring tone, noticed the amusement that flitted across Sam's face. Dean's phone had been a casualty of the fire and he'd needed a new one, had made sure to send the new number to the people who he felt needed it and Sam had shown the fun that was ring tone shopping.

"Dad," He said flicking the phone open.

"Hey, we got something to check out. An old contact just called. A text I've been looking for showed up in a museum." John said, his tone saying this wasn't a friendly heads up and it wasn't a question, it was an order, as much as any anonymous set of coordinates were.

"Yes sir." Dean replied and snapped the phone shut. He kept watching the road as he said, "We got a job."

**TBC…….**

**AN: Hi, people. I know I haven't updated a lot lately but I'm going to be better about that now. Contrary to the angsty Prologue, this is actually mostly a humor story with a healthy dose of that Good Ol' Winchester/Fontenot inner turmoil. Enjoy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Supernatural or its characters. Sadly, that all belongs to someone else.**

"Don't touch that." Sam hissed at Jack, shining his flashlight up at her. Jack squinted at him, one hand hovering above an artifact she'd been fiddling with in her boredom. While casing and subsequently robbing a museum might have seemed like fun a few days before, it was in fact very dull and tedious.

John had banished her to the other side of the basement storerooms while he searched through crates and boxes filled with artifacts, searching for the text that had brought them all here. Apparently playing tic-tac-toe on the back a box wasn't helping the search any, though she'd argue that fact.

"What, I'm not gonna hurt it Sam." Jack said.

"Is the book in there?" Sam asked ignoring her response, and shining his light on the crate in front of her, filled with cellophane wrapped urns and plates.

"No books." Jack replied. She reached absently for the plate again.

"Don't!" Sam whispered at her again. "We don't know what any of this is, or how old it is."

Jack rolled her eyes and made a show of moving two steps to her right and leaning over an unopened box next to the one Dean was sifting through. When Sam turned away, she nudged Dean, who looked up, quirking an eyebrow up at her. She smirked reaching for the forbidden plate again, all the more interested in it, since Sam had told her to keep her hands to herself and tapped her finger on the rim. Dean shook his head, a twitch of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Jack." Sam said in a warning tone

"Touch. Touch. Touch." Jack said poking at the plate with each word. She knew she was being annoying but the situation, she felt, called for it.

"You're gonna break something." Sam said and just like that the plate, after one too many taps, tumbled over the side of the crate. Jack dove for it with visions of Sam saying I told ya so running through her head.

Sam went for it too, both a half a second too late. The plate fell to the floor with a loud smash, bits and pieces scattering all over the floor.

"I told you!" Sam told her, not bothering to his voice down.

"Shut it! If you hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have touched the stupid thing in the first place." Jack snapped.

"What the hell is going on here?" John demanded as he came stalking to their side of the room.

"One of the plates fell, we were just going to clean it up, sir." Dean said quickly straightening up to stand with Sam and Jack, who glared daggers at each other.

"Hurry the hell up, I think the night guard heard your little crash. We gotta get out of here." John said, frustrated.

"Did you find your book?" Sam asked.

John pulled a largish, cloth wrapped package from under his coat, briefly, and putting it back under. He nodded tersely to the mess on the floor. He walked towards the entrance to keep a lookout while the others put things back in order.

"What the hell do we do with all this?" Jack said gathering the larger pieces of the plate together. When it was whole it was the size of a large serving platter, made of fine clay with writing in another language all over it and an image she could only half make out before breaking it.

"You guys do whatever you want, I didn't break the damn thing." Dean said stepping back to replace the lid on his abandoned search effort.

"We can't just leave bits in the garbage, the workers might just notice their missing piece in the trash." Sam said sarcastically.

"Gimme something to carry it in then." Jack responded sourly taking another piece that Sam had been reaching for.

"Use your shirt." Sam replied shrugging off his jacket to start placing shards carefully inside. Jack rolled her eyes and pulled off her own oversized flannel button down shirt.

Each worked on gathering their own pieces, cleaning up the mess and wiping down any prints they might have left.

"Finally." Dean muttered when they stood.

"It was like five minutes." Jack snapped, turning her foul mood on him.

"Whatever, you missed a piece." Dean said picking up a tiny piece next to his boot and tossing it to Sam. He smirked leading the way out with Sam and Jack bickering under their breaths behind him.

* * *

It was close to five in the morning by the time they got back to their motel two towns over. By then they were too tired to care what John's book was or that they were even mad at each other. Jack tossed her shirt carelessly next to her bed while Sam placed his carefully on the table in the corner of the room. She mumbled something about getting first shower and was already in the bathroom before Sam or Dean looked up from what they were doing.

"What was tonight about?" Dean asked sitting down on his bed.

"Don't know. Just too close quarters I guess, I think we're all starting to get on each other's nerves." Sam said laying back on his cot. It was his turn to take the motel issued cot of torment at the motel.

"Not me, I'm a joy to be around." Dean said grinning leaning back against the headboard with his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, right." Sam said, his eyes already closing.

"Lightweight." Dean called as Sam fell asleep mid-retort. The shower was already going in the other room. He sat back and tried to keep himself awake long enough to have a turn in there, that basement was none to clean for a place that was supposed to hold priceless historical things. He looked at his hands and saw that they were coated in the reddish dust from the demolished plate. Dean clapped them together irritably, trying to loosen some of it from his hands.

Jack scrubbed the clinging red dust from her, getting moodier the more tired she got. All the woman wanted to do was fall into bed and stay there for a good long while. She toweled herself off and pulled on a long t-shirt in a daze, barely acknowledging Dean passing her almost as soon as she was out the bathroom door.

Sleep happened before her head hit the pillow, Jack only vaguely hearing Dean fall into the bed next to hers.

From where they were, the next morning seemed, thankfully, distant.

_**The Following Morning**_

"What the fuck is this?!" The shout woke up the two still-sleeping occupants of the room, as well as half the motel.

**TBC………..**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: What do you think?**

"What the fuck is this?!"

Dean came awake, pulling the knife from beneath his pillow, noticing immediately, but dismissing, that it felt oddly heavy in his hands. He sat up in bed, ready for the kill.

The high pitched voice had forced Jack awake too, and her gun was in her hand before her eyes had adjusted to the half light of the room. She grabbed her gun, flicking the safety off hr eyes even opened and swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling, for the space of a second, empty air before she fell face first onto the ground with a heavy thud.

"Shit, damn, hell fuck, when the hell did the floor get so close?" Jack snarled to no one in particular. It took her a second to realize the voice that came out was not her own, not recently anyway.

"Um, Dean, Jack?" A young voice said sounding thoroughly freaked out. "Mind telling me why the fuck I'm suddenly a kid?!"

"Hell if I know!" Dean shouted, pushing off the edge of his bed, learning from Jack's experience with gravity and landing lithely. He paced, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jack pushed herself up from the ground and pinched herself, convinced that this was some horrible result of a few too many beers, a bad dream that would lead to a worse hang over later on. What the hell had they done after leaving the museum anyway?

Being hammered was the only rational explanation she could think of for waking up in the motel room with two bewildered looking children.

"Fuck." Jack said closing her eyes and opening them again, as thought that would put the world back in order. It didn't.

"Jack?" The lighter haired, slightly taller boy asked turning towards her.

Jack nodded, looking down at her new, very small hands.

"I think we might need to get dad." The darker haired boy said.

"Thank you, Captain Understatement." His brother said snidely.

"Oh." Was all Jack could find to say.

**TBC….**

**AN: I think this may be the shortest non-drabble chapter I've ever written. Not to fear, more updates coming ASAP.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: No, they are someone else's. I just like to play with them. Jack is mine though.**

* * *

John paced back and forth across the room, mouthing out words to himself, running his hand over his face, hoping that he'd turn around and he wouldn't be staring at three kids where three accomplished hunters should be.

Sam, Dean and Jack sat on the foot of one of the beds in their room, watching John as he tried to make heads or tails of the situation.

He suddenly stopped.

Dean watched him, apprehension growing in the pit of his stomach. Their dad hadn't said a word since he came into the room, thinking something terrible had happened when he heard the screams minutes before. Dean's rushed explanation that they'd woken up "midgefied", as Dean put it, had resulted in his current state.

John whirled around on them, making the three jump.

"You know you guys have a reputation." He said catching them off guard.

"Wha-" Dean started.

"And that reputation does not include somehow getting yourselves turned into, into-" He waved his hands at them, in a way that, at any other time would have been amusing.

"Kids." Sam said helpfully.

John just growled under his breath and leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What did you do and who'd you piss off?" He asked.

"What all do you mean by 'reputation'?" Jack asked frowning, wrinkling her nose. John found looking into the eyes of the child version of the pain in the ass best friend of his sons', a little disconcerting.

Scratch that, he thought, looking at all three of them unsettling.

"Think, what did you guys do? And who the hell did you do it too?" John demanded starting to lose his patience.

"We didn't do anything dad," Dean replied, holding up his hands, looking at them with an expression that belonged completely to grown up-Dean. One that said he should have been able to prevent this freak turn of events.

"Last night we just came back to the room and crashed." Dean said.

"And before that?" John asked.

"We were with you all night." Sam insisted.

"Maybe it was that book you wanted, Johnny." Jack suggested, eyeing John.

"It wasn't the book, none of you even touched the book." John replied, adding with a scowl, "Don't call me 'Johnny'."

"Alright, John-Boy." Jack said, her expression innocent.

"Jack," He said menacingly.

"Did any of you touch anything else while we were at the museum?" John asked, getting more annoyed by the second.

The three traded looks, seeming to all come to the same conclusion. Sam glared a hole in the side of Jack's head and Dean knocked her upside it. John caught himself about to tell Dean not to hit a girl just in time. Jack looked at him consideringly.

"Define touched." She said.

John gritted his teeth. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"How old do you think we are?" Dean asked in a low voice as they slid into a back booth at the diner.

"Keep your voice down." John reminded his son.

"I'd say eight or nine." Sam replied looking over Dean and Jack speculatively.

"Lucky this voodoo didn't keep to the age gap." He added.

"Ha! You'd be a baby then, Jackie." Dean laughed poking Jack on the side of her head. She scowled at him, looking slightly less threatening in her new shape.

"Bite me." She growled moving her hair out of her face. She'd forgotten how much longer the stuff was when she a kid. It was a tactical nightmare.

"There's another bright side." Dean started, a grin spreading across his features.

"And that is?" John asked sourly.

"I'm taller than Sammy again." Dean crowed proudly jumping out of the, pulling Sam up with him. He coasted his hands in the air between their heads, illustrating how he was again taller than his younger brother.

"So am I." Jack said standing next to them. She had at least three inches on Sam.

John had to grin a little, Sam was once more the runt of the litter.

"Fuck off." Sam growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Samuel! Watch your language!" John barked automatically.

"What? I'm not really eight dad." Sam retorted indignantly.

John opened his mouth to argue but couldn't think of a thing to say.

Jack fell back against the booth in a fit of laughter

Sam plowed his way through Dean and Jack to place himself in the far corner of the booth, shooting dirty looks at the other two. Jack tried and failed to turn her laugh into a cough.

John felt a smile tug at his lips in spit of himself. This was serious. They had not idea what kind of spell this was or what the nastier effects of it could be. In the back of his mind he was running through all the implications of youth for rituals and spells, various creatures who fed off of innocence, but seeing his sons this way was making him nostalgic. Made something in him want to indulge a bit of childish behavior to complete the illusion.

"Are you ready to order?" Their waitress asked, arriving at their table.

"Yea, ma'am." Dean said smiling beatifically up at the shapely woman. John rolled his, same Dean, smaller body. "After you Jacqueline?" He gestured towards Jack.

"Aren't you just the cutest thing?" She cooed over Dean's prefect little gentleman act.

"He tells himself so." Jack said.

"Kids." John said warningly.

"Bacon, scrambled eggs and pancakes please." Jack said laying on the Southern sweetness like there was no tomorrow, pinching Dean covertly under the table when he checked out the waitress's ass when she wasn't looking.

"Ow! I mean, I'll have the same." Dean said shooting a glare at Jack.

"What'll it be Sammy?" John asked him.

"Just coffee please." Sam replied.

"Beg your pardon?" The waitress asked.

"I'll take a cup too. I need a damn caffeine drip, dude." Jack tacked on to no one in particular. The waitress blinked, her mouth opening and closing, at a loss for what to say.

"Me three. I feel like I'm gonna pass out." Dean added yawning.

The waitress turned to John with wide eyes.

"They're just jokin, ma'am. Orange juice all around. My kids and their senses of humor." John gave a tight smile.

'And their vastly different coloring, foul mouths and other recipes for social services.' John thought.

He gave his own breakfast order and the waitress went on her way as quickly as her feet could carry her.

"Could you three try to act a little more like real kids?" John ordered them irritated, once she was out of ear shot.

"No coffee." Dean whimpered, looking longingly at another waitress refilling a customer's cup two tables down from them.

"Not in public." John said sternly.

"This sucks out loud." Dean muttered sliding down further in his seat.

**TBC….**

**AN: Sorry for the long wait, RL is being a pain in the ass for writing right now. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't I wish...**

**AN: This chapter is John-centric and shorter than I would have liked but its an update where there hasn't been one in a very long time. Enjoy.**

* * *

After a hasty breakfast John hustled the kids back to his room and all but barricaded the door to bar entry or exit by anyone that wasn't him.

"C'mon dad you can't just leave us in here!" Sam exclaimed pounding on the door.

"Can and will Sammy. Can and will." John replied, walking hastily into there room next door. He wanted a chance to really look over the place and find out if he could glean any more than waht they'd told him about their current brand of crazy.

Before opening the door to the room John pulled on a pair of thick worn black leather gloves usually favored by cattlemen; there was no sense in accidently turning this curse on himself as well. Turning the knob cautiously, John first noted the pile of dirty clothes in the corner near the bathroom. Easily discerning the ones from the night before from the rest, John grabbed a garbage bag from the wastbasket and carefully bagged the dust coated clothes for further investigation. Next he went over the bedding looking for any remnants of plate dust. He also didn't want some poor unsuspecting maid to get de-aged while stripping the beds.

A few more minutes and John left the room, gingerly carrying the bag of clothes and the rest of the uncontaminated hunting gear.

Sam had given up trying to bang down the door by the time John was finished loading their things in his truck. He had a problem and he knew it.

What was he going to do with the kids? Sure, he could handle the run down the museum to try and find the scraps of plate left behind the night before, he already had his excuse to get past personel and escape route planned. But he was hesitant to leave them alone even for a few short minutes, hour tops, his pragmatic side assured him. John didn't like knowing what he was looking at, didn't deal well with not having any and all information up front. He didn't relish the learning experience like Sam did. No, John was uneasy with the unknown and after all this time, there wasn't a lot that was still unknown to him in the business.

Leaving them meant leaving something to chance. He couldn't even trust that they'd be there when he got back. No lock was going to hold them in forever, persistent little pricks that they were.

Only one option then, John thought with a sigh. He dug out his phone and made the call. Two rings later and he didn't bother with greetings.

"Bobby, I need a favor."

**TBC...**


End file.
